


Ten Years of Dishes

by destielismylovesong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, coda fic, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielismylovesong/pseuds/destielismylovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And every night, for the past ten years, he’d watched Dean do the dishes. And every night, for the past ten years, Dean had watched him dry the dishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Years of Dishes

**Author's Note:**

> On [ Tumblr ](http://destielismylovesong.tumblr.com/post/59151678501/cas-watches-deans-hands-as-he-washes-the-dishes)

Cas watches Dean's hands as he washes the dishes, watches the same movements and rhythm he's been watching for the last ten years.

At first, Sam and Kevin tried to protest- Dean cooked dinner every night, he shouldn't be washing the dishes too. Dean just smiled and shook his head, explaining that it was part of his process. Shop, cook, eat, clean. He enjoyed it, he insisted, enjoyed the fact that there wasn't as much to worry about anymore, that he had  _time_  to have a process. So Sam and Kevin stopped, and neither said a word when, every night, Cas joined Dean in the kitchen, silently drying the dishes alongside him. 

When Kevin moved out a year after they closed hell and returned the angels home, Dean stopped cooking for a week. He'd never admit it, but Kevin was family, and he hadn't wanted him to leave. He only started cooking again when Cas stole the keys to the Impala and went grocery shopping. He came into the den and dumped the bags in front of Dean where he sat on the couch, reading.

"Real food, please," he said, and before Dean could make a face, he added, "Or I'll start cooking." Dean sighed and nodded, and Cas sat down next to him, close, hoping the warmth of his body would comfort his best friend.

A few months later, Haley came along. Sam's girlfriend was sweet and quiet. They'd saved her from being bitten by a vampire, and Sam had fallen head over heels. The first time she came for dinner, she also tried to get Dean to let her do the dishes, but he smiled (a version of the smile that he saved just for Charlie) and shook his head. And when Cas followed Dean into the kitchen to help, she shot a look towards Sam, but he just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say,  _They've been doing this dance for years, don't look at me for an explanation._

When Sam and Haley got married, everyone made the trip for the wedding, as well as the reception in the bunker. Charlie, Kevin and his mother, Jody, Garth, Krissy. When everyone left, Dean went into the kitchen to do the dishes. Which is where Cas found him moments later, hunched over the sink and tearing up over the plates.

Cas pulled him up, and Dean fought, fought him every step of the way until Cas's arms were around him, Dean's head forced on to his shoulder, and his hands were rubbing soothing patterns into Dean's back. That's when Dean really cried, letting go completely, his hands fisting into Cas's dress shirt as the tears came silently, tears for himself and his mother and his father and the brother he'd given away just hours ago.

Cas led him out of the kitchen and down the hallway into his bedroom, where he knew the pictures of his mother would help Dean sleep. Dean didn't make a sound when Cas tugged off his dress shoes or the tie he'd been pulling at impatiently all day, and he didn't make a sound when Cas pushed him back into the mattress and tucked him in. 

But when Cas strode over to the door and flicked off the light switch, Dean turned towards him. "Cas," he whispered.

"I know, Dean," Cas said quietly, and they never spoke of the events of that night again. But in the morning, when Dean came in to the kitchen and saw the dishes, clean and gleaming brightly in the dish rack, he smiled.

Sam and Haley came over for family dinner once a week, usually on Wednesdays, and Sam and Dean spent every Sunday together. It was Cas and Dean, now, who usually went on hunts, although Sam joined them every once in a while. So did Haley, when Sam announced her trained good and proper.

One Sunday a couple of years after the wedding, Dean and Sam were on a hike (because that's what they did after hell was closed and the world quieted), when Sam stopped in the middle of the path and stood, waiting for Dean to realize that he wasn't following. Dean paused and looked back, raising an eyebrow, and Sam hesitated.

"Haley's pregnant," he said, and Dean's eyes widened instantly. Knowing his brother as well as he did, Sam saw the panic before Dean could cover it up with his smile and excitement. He didn't say anything, knowing Cas would be the one to get Dean to deal with his emotions later on. 

"I'm going to be an uncle?" Dean exclaimed, and Sam let him stride forward to hug him, clapping him on the back and asking him questions animatedly.

That night, Cas found Dean crying over the dishes again. But this time, he led him into the den and opened the recliner. He lay down, pulling Dean down with him, and hugged him until he fell asleep in his arms. When Dean woke up the next morning, he found himself in his bed alone. And again, when he stepped into the kitchen, the dishes gleamed brightly in the dish rack.

It happened again when Bobby John Winchester was born.

And it happened again when Deanna Winchester was born.

"I wanted you to be able to name your daughter Mary one day," Sam explained quietly, seriously, to a dumbfounded Dean. "After all, you knew Mom, and I know that would mean everything to you. And then...well, who else was I going to name her after, if not you?"

That night, when Cas tucked Dean into bed, tears still tracking down through the maze of freckles on his face, Dean tugged him down, startling him. Cas almost fell, but Dean pulled him onto the bed and snuggled into him. "Do the dishes with me in the morning," he said softly, burrowing his head into the crook of Cas's neck. Cas, barely able to form words at this turn of events, murmured his agreement and other nonsense into Dean's ear until he fell asleep. Cas stayed awake as long as he could, not wanting to miss the rise and fall of Dean's chest against his.

It's six months later now, and Dean hasn't had reason to cry since Deanna had been born. As Cas watches the simple, practiced movement of Dean's hands on the plate, it occurs to him, seriously, for the first time in ten years, that there are other ways for him to end up in Dean's bed.

It's not like he didn't  _know_ , of course. He isn't stupid. He knows what sex is- for goodness's sake, he'd  _had_  sex. Not much, but some. And he knows what love is. He reads books. He watches television. 

And every night, for the past ten years, he'd watched Dean do the dishes. And every night, for the past ten years, Dean had watched him dry the dishes.

Maybe he  _was_  stupid, Cas thinks as he drops the towel on the floor and reaches over to shut off the faucet. Dean, mid-dish, raises his eyebrows.

"Problem, Cas?" he asks, and Cas hesitates for one more instant before grabbing the plate out of Dean's hands and setting it in the sink carefully. His hands are the opposite of careful, though, when he grabs Dean by his collar and turns him into his arms, covering his lips with his own in a desperate, fiery kiss.

It takes Dean a second to process, to understand what's happening, but as soon as he does, his mouth is opening for Cas's tongue, welcoming him in with a soft, broken moan. He fists his hands in Cas's t-shirt and stumbles back into the pantry when Cas pushes him into it. 

"My problem?" Cas asks, gasping for air as he breaks the kiss to unbutton Dean's shirt. "My problem-" a frustrated noise escapes his mouth and Dean's buttons go flying- "is that we're so  _stupid_." Another sound of frustration escapes him at the sight of Dean's t-shirt, but Dean reaches down to kiss him, a slightly calmer if still frenzied kiss, and he pulls back only to take his t-shirt by its corners and lift it up over his head. 

Cas stares and Dean grins, reaching for Cas's t-shirt and divesting him of it as well. He leans down and mouths at Cas's nipple, and Cas is broken out of his stupor, his hands going to Dean's belt and undoing it hurriedly.

"Wait," he says suddenly, pausing at Dean's zipper. "Dean, I don't have any-"

Dean presses a kiss to his collar bone, half soothing, half arousing. "It's okay, I do," he murmurs, and suddenly he feels himself being pulled by Cas towards his room.

There are no more coherent words as Cas pushes him down onto the bed and searches for what he needs in the drawers of Dean's nightstand. Dean doesn't need to say anything as Cas strips them both quickly and gently thrusts one lubed finger into Dean's hole. Dean doesn't need to say anything because this is  _Cas_ , his best friend, his everything, and he knows Dean, he built Dean from scraps of nothing, and he'd never do anything but worship the body of the man he'd painstakingly put back together.

Their eyes meet as Cas pushes in, slowly, as gently as he can. Dean reaches up, cupping his neck in the palm of his hand, and pulls him down, gasping into his mouth at the feeling of being filled, crying out his name in short bursts of breath. Cas covers the hand at his neck with his own as he bottoms out, his tongue thrusting into Dean's mouth as deeply as he's buried in Dean.

Dean moans again, and Cas moves at the sound, pulling out and thrusting back in hard but carefully, building up a steady, fierce pattern. One hand goes to Dean, hard and needing in between their bodies, and with a few strokes, Dean is coming, followed by Cas, who can't help how quickly his body responds to Dean clenching around him.

They settle, sticky and uncaring, their limbs tangled together, eyes closed, breaths regulating as their lips meet in slow, languid kisses that have nothing to do with want or desire, and have only to do with the two hearts that beat slow and steady for each other.

"Stupid," Dean whispers against Cas's lips. When Cas opens his eyes to meet Dean's, he smiles and kisses Cas's cheek before leaning back to meet Cas's gaze again. "I am so stupidly in love with you, Cas."

For the first time in ten years, it's Cas who cries, tears sliding down his cheeks at Dean's words. "And I am just as stupidly in love with you, Dean," he whispers back, kissing him again through the tears, again, again, always his lips on Dean's.

Dishes, he thinks to himself as he drifts off. All he'd ever had to do was pay closer attention to the dishes.

-

A year later, Cas orders a 500-pack box of dish soap. They stand in the dining room by the box, and Dean looks at him sideways, his expression questioning, wondering at the excitement that his lover is practically radiating.

"Cas, this is a very large box," Dean says, a slight, teasing grin on his face as he backs away with his hands up, so as not to catch Cas's crazy.

"Dean, open the box," Cas says impatiently. Dean does as he says, using the ever-present knife that belonged to Ruby to cut through the tape. When the box opens, he stares, his jaw dropping at the big sign that rests on top of the bottles of Palmolive.

_Will you do the dishes with me for the rest of our lives?_


End file.
